the second try
by How Cookie Crumbles
Summary: Strip someone of their identity and you can arrange the pieces of their fragmented self into something completely new. "Who… who am I? Why am I here?" Rob runs into someone Elmore hasn't seen in nearly a decade, but to rebuild her from scratch is to reintroduce himself to his past demons from the Void and possibly make a new friend. — #rob/rachel
1. Chapter 1

**the second try (I)**

 **THE VOID.** There is no _subtlety_ with the place, no bargaining. It's a memory that pierces like a shard of broken glass, _right_ into him with unrelenting merciless _cruelty._ The static in his limbs and face fuzzle together in a near deafening _buzzing_ in his head at the mere thought; let alone any nightmare connected to it. It's mostly why Rob doesn't sleep; he doesn't need it anymore, and he avoids it most of the time. The nightmares would bombard him with the same wretched feelings of loneliness, isolation and _nothing._ To be stranded there for who knows how long, only to realize he was forgotten hadn't been an easy process to overcome. Rob hadn't taken the time, honestly; too caught up with revenge against Gumball, the one indirectly at fault for his disfigurement. Doesn't matter the time, the place, the weather, or how mentally and physically tired he is. He doesn't sleep, he doesn't need it. The boy doesn't like to think of himself as anything other than a villain; sometimes that encompasses other things, and _for a time,_ he had had been _alright_ with it. Not exactly thrilled or sold, but _alright._ If that meant being able to take down a certain blue feline out of the picture so he could rise, so be it. If it meant he _contributed_ something to this world so that he could be considered important enough not to be sent back to the Void, he would take it. He would be the _bad guy._

But then it became _complicated._ Because not only did his annoying enemy have to fulfill his duty as the protagonist of his self-titled show and be a _good and noble guy_ to Rob; not only did he have to take that extra step to prove him, the monster, the villain, _the bad guy,_ wrong on all accounts; _not only_ did he leave it be when Rob all but laid off of him, thinking he was doing him a favor of _not_ actively trying to kill him. It was also the fact that the dumb kid _wanted_ Rob as his nemesis. A stupid ingredient fed to his ego, he's sure; but it _confuse_ _s_ him. It _anger_ _s_ him. Why couldn't he just have left him _alone_ when Rob had taken up Banana Joe as his new nemesis? Why did the stupid cat have to contradict himself left and right _and drag his sorry behind into it?_ Despite appearances, Rob doesn't like _that_ much drama. He _likes_ simplicity; but Gumball is just… _too_ much for his own good. Rob couldn't even _make_ a new nemesis anymore; because nobody else, he found out, was as _insufferable, annoying, and selfish_ as _the_ Gumball Watterson. Not a single one. And that… that _anger_ _s_ him. Gumball had _squandered_ all and any chance for him to lead a _somewhat_ normal villain life. Because even when he tried to get a new foe, it would all end up in the same thought cycle. Nobody ever matched; and Rob _knew_ that he was forever cursed to a fate chasing after Gumball like a dog trying to catch his tail. Never ending and futile.

And for that, he hated his enemy a hundred times more, and then some. Forever. It was the kind of hate that physically burned into his chest, made him hunch over in agony and _pain,_ made him want to sob, yet never _quite_ being able to do so, because who would take that seriously? It's not like anyone cared about who Rob was _before_ ; nobody even remembered him. It made the boy extremely bitter, slathering him into more isolation and loneliness. What had even been the point of being _nice_ and _sociable_ when he had been normal? If given a second chance, _would_ he even be nice anymore? The answer, unsurprisingly, is a firm resounding _no_ that pounded into his head like a hammer. And Rob doesn't know why that leaves him with the feeling of disappointment pooling into his liver and guts, like a worm. That's not him anymore.

And so, when taking Internet hostage in his own home, Rob hadn't tried to be cordial or even a little nice, despite Rob having no real animosity towards the guy; it just wasn't in his nature to be _nice_ anymore. At least, not genuinely. His plan was a failure, and no sooner did the audience shut off their screens, Rob hit the road faster than the speed of light. He hadn't even bothered to untie Internet, despite the yelling and annoyed protests; he didn't care, and he left with a slump to his shoulders because he was reminded that day that he had nowhere to go. No family, no _real_ home where he'd be welcome with open arms. Nothing. Rob, the homeless teen and self-made villain of Elmore, was still a nobody. And nobody _ever_ wants a nobody.

It's been a couple weeks since then. Perhaps a month, actually. Or two. The air is as sopping wet as his melancholic days tend to be; sad, like everything else he conjures up. "Jeeze; if this isn't a cliché," his distaste is clear against the droplets of water, hunching himself over like a feeble bean-strip. "Yeah, alright; _and so the rain keeps on pouring,_ eh? Because I'm the _villain_ and I'm _always_ supposed to be darn _sad,_ right?!" He cries to nobody in particular, and his glare is only met with a clap of booming thunder, illuminating nothing else but an alleyway up ahead. He has enough sense in him to at least roll his eye in the irony of this self awareness. He sighs, kicking the pavement with a disheartened foot, wallowing in his angst for a split second before speeding on, finding _some_ shelter though an alleyway and right next to a trash can. Another clap of thunder roars in the sky, leading his gaze upwards and curling his mouth into a deep set frown. "Figures," he mumbles, "It just has to happen to me, right?" Still no answer, not from himself or the heavens or anything. "Stupid Gumball; this town would be far better off with me running it." It's the only way it could work, really, but despite the intensity of his loathe, he couldn't quite just _end_ him.

It's too complicated.

Rob shuts his eye, nearly painfully, and nestles into himself more. A 3d disfigurement he may be, but he's still completely sentient. He breathes, he feels; and right now, he's _freezing._ The glitch in his jaw and the missing… _piece_ on his torso do not help. "Why is this even happening today?" It had seemed that the rain and thunder had arbitrarily begun; to be honest, he hadn't been paying attention. He'd checked the weather forecast in passing; Elmore doesn't receive a lick of weather like this _ever._ It's all strange, peculiar. His hands grip his arms and, albeit reluctantly, he rests his head against the trash can, ignoring the screech of the cat that jumps out of it, and the overall discomfort. _God this sucks._ He technically had a place to crash; an abandoned warehouse just on the edge of Elmore, further down about two blocks from where he lays, but like heck if he's going to take a merry little walk in this daft and rain. He shuts his eye and shakes his head slightly, as if answering himself. He could wait; it's not like he would die of hypothermia, or something. The power of _knowing_ and _self awareness_ were tools that Rob used to the fullest extent.

The boy shuffles in place, wanting to accommodate his tush at least _somewhat_ against the cold, wet, bumpy pavement. But no dice, not really, and yet he finds himself trying even more anyway. No position works, and he's already getting scratches on his thighs and legs because of his incessant movement. In the moment that he finds an _okay_ spot to rest, namely, by resting his outstretched leg forward, it is lighting that illuminates the darkness, more so than the thunder before it, and the light lingers to the alleyway Rob sits in, clearing his vision downright from the metallic sheen of the trashcan, to the rats scuttling about, to the colorful body across a mere inches away from his toe.

...wait.

 _Wait, **WHAT?!**_

"Hn _gh—!_ " Rob lurches forward and backward in a violent flinch, his body not knowing exactly where to start from the shock that overtakes him like a wave. He breathes fiercely, as if about to vomit, and he places one of his hands in front of his mouth, wanting to stop it if possible. His toe is already far tucked in under him, and the swing it had taken for his hand to move in front of his face had made his elbow collide harshly with the wall he rested against. "What the— _what the_ _ **what?!"**_ There are far better words to illustrate his shock, but he knows it's a futile attempt to get past the censors. But it doesn't stop the roar of his heart, or the stifling fear of _seeing a rotting corpse right in front of him!_ Rob can't even get up, the illumination having long past, but he knows the body is _right there_. He's too frightened, too frozen and rooted to the spot; he's _petrified._ Is that… is _that_ truly a dead body?! _Here in Elmore?!_ _It just couldn't possible be!_ And yet, even the midst of the striking darkness that engulfs everything around him, he can make out the color _blue_ if anything. Despite his bodily instincts screaming otherwise, his curiosity overpowers anything else, and he finds himself leaning forward, inching ever so slightly to try and get a better look in morbid fascination. His breath is being sucked out of him, reaching the tip of his throat; his eye squints and upon closer inspection, he can see… something multicolored too, barely, but very much there. "T-Tobias…?"

He doesn't why he expects, or rather _wants_ an answer, a sound, a shuffle, _something!_ But his mouth remains slack open, frozen in the aftermath of his former peer's name. He remembers his fleeting moments, however short, were… at least mildly pleasant, yes? It was neither here or there, but he never wished an ill will on him. He gulps in the realization; he can't picture willing anyone like this, ever. Not even Gumball, not even when Rob was driven by nothing but pure resentment. Trap him into the Void, yes, but _this?_ Ridden in slime and grime, in rat feces and caked in dirt? His Adam's apple bobbing in near violent apprehension.

This can't be happening. This _shouldn't_ be happening. It's not right!

Panic overtakes him in that moment, a wild moment of childish hope and just pure fear drive Rob forward. His body, previously frozen in fearful acceptance, now moves with shaking denial. He kneels forward, the disgust of the various smells now a petty and minimal thing in the back of his mind as his hands grab the darkened figure as he shakes them. He can feel the fluff of rainbow under his palms, his screens reacting accordingly, buzzing alive and multicolored. " _Hey!_ Tobias! Man, wake _up!_ Get up! This isn't funny!" his lip quivers, wanting to sob, but he suppresses it with a bite instead, panic temporarily fueling his short-lived determination. "Dude, you can't just— _how_ did you even— _why_ are you even… Think of your _parents_ man!" Half sentences and nonsensical blurbs is all he can spill out; to comfort who, he doesn't know. His mind is racing a million times over, and he doesn't know what he's even doing anymore. _Why_ Tobias? What's he even _doing_ here!? Is this… is this a result of something to do with the Void? When did this take a turn to some cheap _Creepypasta?!_

But as if his panic filled thoughts summoned the answers from above, another flash of thunder illuminates the town all over again, and Rob sees in that moment that it is indeed _not_ Tobias he's holding. His black pupil recedes back into a dot at the sight.

Oh.

This… this is a _girl._

Rob almost drops her, but he catches himself mid-thought before his grip grows slack. If anything, they tighten and _Oh…_ he knows this person. Like a sudden _trigger_ memory, realizing he too had been corrupted by the Void's manipulation, Rob is flashed back to that _one_ birthday party. He… he _remembers;_ he remembers being invited by Tobias, and having heard that this was a more _adult_ party and their whole class were invited. He remembers the stupid shenanigans they'd gotten into at said party, when Rob flashed his brain but for the world to see with the lamp. He _remembers_ freaking Miss Simian and Mr. Brown _crashing_ the party and making it cooler than it already was and— he realizes that just because he too was considered a mistake by their universe and its' rules, didn't mean that his own memories weren't tampered with. Who else had he forgotten? How many more did he forget even existed? He just… stays still for who knows how long, and then, like a domino effect, he comes to more, smaller realizations: for one, the smells that all but overwhelmed his nose (or well, lack thereof; he could still smell) were now moot, as a faint and subtle whiff of… strawberry sliced through. This led to the second most important thing to come: she's most definitely _not_ dead. Rob isn't sure if the warmth that spreads throughout his fingertips and arms is a result of the adrenaline wearing thin, or the fact that he's only _now_ realizing she's breathing, evident by her _very soft_ rise of her chest felt by his hands. His heart freezes.

... _oh._

After looking both ways, and despite the thunderous roar of his heart, ever so gently, more concerned with escaping the embarrassing hold he has on her, he tries to peel his hands away, resulting in a rubbing type of motion with her forearms and shoulders. But then there's a moment of clarity that defogs his mind and he blinks several times. "Wait, I can't— what am I _doing?!_ I need to get us _out_ of here!"

Everything in him absolutely stills when she shuffles in movement; his limps clamp up in their own accord and it takes everything in him not to even _breathe._ Her eyelashes flutter, like her eyes _want_ to peel open. And her lips part gently, yet no words come out. Despite that though, Rob finds that he's leaning close just to hear what she has to say, eye looking on in fascination at this person. Who is she? Her name is on the tip of his tongue but he can't… _remember._ Just as quickly as her waking up came, it's gone, and the girl with the rainbow hair slumps back down in unconsciousness.

Rob's jaw clamps shut, and like a switch in his mind, he makes a firm decision. He tells himself it's not because he's a _good guy_ ; this just has to be done.

With initially unsure fingers curling to his palm a couple of times, he gently cradles her, and with his hunched form, scuttles through the rain, careful to see where he's going. Thankfully, she isn't deceivingly heavier than she looks, which makes her a breeze to carry like this. "Hang in there. I'm not going to have someone else forgotten on my watch." Even if it isn't him this time, he can't stand to relive this kind of torment all over again. "I'll remember you, once you remind me everything I need to know about you." No response from the rainbow haired girl; his entire chest is swelling with familiarity, and he's glad that he at least recognizes her. Had she been Tobias's cousin? Sibling? _Gah, he can't_ _remember!_ "I'm not a good guy; so don't go calling me it." He _isn't._ He doesn't know why he has to keep telling himself this, but he has to. He's _not_ a good guy; this isn't being _good_. And yet, despite that, even someone like him can't take this; her barely breathing, her having to possibly realize that she's been gone for a very long time. Longer than him. The static of his 'face acne' buzzes vividly, bright against the stark darkness of the night. To be forgotten like this, and then dumped right back in a random, dirty alley like garbage. Was the Void truly this heartless and cruel? If he hadn't clung to life, would this too have been his fate? He shakes his head vigorously to be rid of the thought. _Focus! Get this chick outta here!_ His long strides lead him to his 'pad' in no time; though he's physically cold and aching, his mind doesn't _feel_ it. He has one goal here, and it's all that matters right now.

The warehouse isn't all that grand; the only thing that Rob ever did with it had been put on a spare, dirtied couch in the middle of it, and dump whatever garbage inventions and 'evil' stuff he conjured up. It served as more of a storage unit than anything. It's an old thing; thankfully abandoned and all but forgotten. Just like him. Just like _them._ The steps creak under him and in dramatic flair, he knocks the door open with a single, powerful kick, and hurries inside, laying her carefully on the old, ratted couch. The late night, motion sensor light kicks in; it's not a brilliance to brag about, barely illuminating the room. He almost apologizes out loud, suddenly embarrassed by his own 'house', but then realizes the silliness of speaking further to someone who's knocked unconscious. His eye roves over to her form, having a little more access to light. Yup, definitely related to Tobias; at that realization, his chest tightens in sympathizing emotion. How is she going to take this? He shuts his eye, trying to uncurl the clench of his jaw and fists, the static in his limbs whirring down in accordance to his forced relaxed state.

"I… I don't know what to do…" he confesses, as if that's enough to justify her freezing on his stink old couch. He has no blankets, no adequate first aid kits, no nothing. His gulp hurts, and is very loud against the walls of their enclosed space. With rising, out-of-character shyness and trepidation at this whole thing, Rob does the only thing that comes to mind; he settles himself in there, and after a beat or two, hesitantly grabs the girl's form and presses her against his chest. "Sorry… I don't… I don't even have towels..." his voice breaks at the last word, and he has to shut his eye to stop the annoying urge to cry. He can feel her breathing, however faint, much to his relief. "Please… please just hang in there. Don't… don't _die_ on me." As if responding to him, her fingers twitch, causing Rob's own shaking fingers to linger on hers. "Don't take it the wrong way; I'm not going to do anything, I'm not a creep, and I'm _not_ a good guy." His other hand clenches tightly, as if empowering the statement. "I'm _not_ a good guy; I'm not the protagonist here." The girl makes no movement, and it leaves Rob feeling a bit empty. "I'm not the white knight in shining armor, here to rescue you. I'm just… not _that_ much a bad person." What and who's he trying to convince, even he doesn't know the answer. After nearly an hour of feeling for her breathing and rubbing her arms to warm her up despite his own shivering, Rob lets himself succumb to sleep.

That night, he doesn't dream of the Void.

He dreams of Rachel's party.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** _I updated this sooner than what my schedule_ _is supposed to be_ _; just needed to get this out,_ _establishing the lore and all that._ _I'm hoping to keep this within the ten chapter bracket_ _._ _Good news is that I took_ _a full_ _day to outline this whole mess, so b_ _i-weekly updating starts today onward_ _(if I see this through)_ _._ _If you have questions,_ _please_ _don't be hesitant_ _to ask_ _!_ _R_ _eviews are always appreciated._

 **( &. )**

 **the second try (II)**

 **COMPLETELY UNUSED TO** the ghastly feeling of rising awake, Rob's eyelid twitches before rearing back. The merged dots that make up his pupil tighten into a singular dot, fighting against the small, but bright, exposure from the light bleeding through the enclosed space. "Wha..." He fell asleep? Huh. "Jeeze. What a crazy party that was..." Although, many things are still processing through the boy's mind; the party in question happened forever ago, and he didn't wake up lying on the sidewalk like he thought he landed on, and he isn't covered in streamers or a lampshade. He blinks several times, trying to refine the gaussian blur overtaking his whole vision. Slowly, various memories, _nightmares_ leak out, and he realizes a few things; he's not 'normal' in appearance, and there was no party last night, and he _hates_ Gumball Watterson. "Eugh. Right. This is why I don't— mmgh…?" his mouth is filled with something faintly fruity tasting, but akin to… _hair?!_ Shaking his head in an attempt to get it out of his mouth, he rapidly blinks, and mentally undoes all of his thoughts. His first instinct is to _jump_ because _whattheheckis_ ** _touching_** _me?!_ but most important of all is the resounding question of _what is going on?!_ He receives his answer in the next moment.

Namely, when the figure resting on his chest moves.

Oh.

That's right. It all comes back to him. And—

 _Oh._

Right.

He had the genius idea to nestle this girl _on his person_ to keep her warm. Well, to keep both of them warm. Rob doesn't realize he gulps until the bob of his head barely elicits a small movement on her end, making him freeze. His heart rate begins to skyrocket, and soon he's filled with all the anxiety in the world. _Okay, okay; it's alright._ _Just gotta… move out of the way and make sure she doesn't wake._ He ignores the obvious, more important, concerns swirling in his mind. Like how exactly he's going to explain to her why she's here of all places. Or explain in what city she's in. That's not even mentioning handling the situation if she potentially doesn't remember some things, not that he's too worried about that. After all, she's completely whole and unscathed, not like him when he escaped the Void. His fingertips barely graze the skin of her arms and shoulders, and yet the contact has him feeling abnormally flustered. He still has yet to see her face, and he would have thought her dead otherwise from the slump of her shoulders and the way her head sinks in. He still doesn't remember her name. Slowly, his long legs inch out from under her, and he pushes her lightly, trying to put in some serious distance between them. It isn't only the fact that he's nervous and inexplicably _shy_ all of a sudden, but she kind of doesn't _smell_ the best, despite the lingering strawberry whiff underneath the horrid, alley stench. A sharp pain grips his chest; he knows what it's like to be laying around, no home, no shelter, no luxury of a bath. Nothing. But her? How _long_ exactly has she been like this? With nothing? He doesn't know for how long, and that's the part that unsettles him the most.

His trepidation grows sharper by the second, even with all the progress he's made so far in moving his legs; the fact remains, she's still _nestled_ in her spot, pressed right against him. The trickiest part is moving his chest, well, the entirety of his body out of the way. It takes him a few seconds to inch away a millimeter, at least; so nearly two minutes later, most of his torso is out of reach. He tries to ignore how uncomfortably close they are; any evidence to _more_ thoughts on the matter are manifested to the low humm on his face and limbs, but he doesn't let it go beyond that. With a speed unforeseen even by himself, he scuttles out of being her body pillow, quickly swooping in a jerkish, trembling hand under her neck and scalp to cushion her slowly, leading her head slowly to the armrest of the sofa instead. Rob isn't aware of his labored breathing until he lets the seconds pass, eye unblinking and vivid; _alert._

Only at the sound of utter silence and a few strides backwards does Rob let himself truly relax.

"Okay, you're good now," he says to himself, reminding his chaotic mind that the important thing currently is, well, to worry about what exactly he's supposed to do now. His mouth thins into a firm line; he truly hadn't thought this venture through. Thumb and forefinger tips touch together in uncertainty, before he shifts his stance with a hip cocked to the side, fist now at the edge of his mouth. "Darn it, why did I— The heck, when did I become some kind of babysitter?" Yet, despite his protests, his mind is already reeling to the grocery store. Surely he could get some towels and other necessities, right? For when she wakes up; not _if_ but _when._ The girl is his responsibility now, after all. Rob may be homeless, _technically_ speaking; but he's scrounged up along these past few days or so to at least go to a dollar store, at the very least and maybe even the grocery outlet. Sometimes selling his cruddy inventions definitely helped; he's not stupid, by any means.

His eye wanders to her form and, for once, lets himself finally appreciate her details. Yes, definitely someone he… he's familiar with. He expects an onslaught of a distant memory coming back full force, like a sledgehammer. Like it did when Darwin had stupidly and unknowingly punctured the air with the detrimental truth. But nothing comes up; nothing but absolute blankness. "How am I even supposed to… _do_ anything if I don't _remember_ you?" The anger in his tone bleeds through without his consent; the frustration is too much to bear and she's the only one here, even if unconscious, to receive the end of it. The result of all this overwhelming mess, plus the purposeful obfuscation of evading personal blame, is a half baked conversation with someone he barely knows on a personal level _and_ is knocked out unconscious. Just great. Now he's probably officially crazy. But it doesn't deter him. "I don't even know your _name_." He doesn't even want to think on the irony in that one; the last thing he needs is to feel the same way his nemesis does. _Whatever, at least I have the decency to admit it._

He's been way too lonely for far longer than he wants to ever admit.

His response is a twitch of her brow, however slight. An action that causes his breath to hitch. Unsurprisingly and disappointingly, she doesn't rise from her slumber. "...Right. Whatever. Be that way, see if I care." With a wave of his arm and a lively buzz from his static, his strides lead him to the door. Speaking to her, well, speaking to _anyone_ in a non-hostile way is… rather _nice_ for once. There's no tension of whether or not she's going to harm him. For once, even for this short while, he's playing a non-villain. "Not a _good guy,"_ he recites to her out loud, even turning to her as if she accused him of such. He pretends she had, and he looks at her pointedly with a firm no-nonsense gaze, "Just not letting you die, is all." Still no response; he sniffs. "In any case, I'll be back. Don't move. And don't freak out, I won't be gone that long." Rob makes sure to lock the door.

 **( &. )**

"— _OW! What the—?!"_

A DVD case flies had come straight across the vicinity of the enclosed space, and hit Tobias square in one of his eyes, already having it swelling and a bright maroon in color. "Could you guys _watch_ _it_ and _shut up?!_ You weirdos!" The complaint comes loud and clear, directed at the offenders. Even though the line at the current _Laser Video_ is practically non-existent, the very presence of two _certain_ dolts never fail to make a fun errand seem like a dreadful chore.

Those two dolts are named _Gumball_ and _Darwin._

Both pause in their ministration, having been way too caught up in their little spat of which movie they were going to rent which led to having a tug of war with the DVD case just seconds prior. Yet, both seem equally unperturbed; a little more Gumball than Darwin, who looks sorry for only a brief second. Gumball dismisses the matter with a scoff in the colorful cloud's direction. "Yeesh, tone it down a bit, would ya? The thing barely hit you." He ignores the other's disdainful grumbling, opting to pick at his ear in sheer disinterest at his peer's plight. "I would think you're used to this kind of thing by now, given how often it tends to happens..."

Tobias sputters and swiftly turns around to face them. "Just because it happens often doesn't mean it hurts any less, you jerk! Pain is pain; and you should start _respecting_ me! I'm not just some comedic effect you can just decide to randomly hurt to get your jimmies rustling!" In that moment, whether or not it was meant to happen or not, the same DVD case that flew clear across the room only minutes prior, comes back full swing like a boomerang hitting him in the back of head. He ends up an unconscious heap of multicolored stain on the floor.

Gumball and Darwin stare at the heap of the groaning Tobias on the floor for only a second before turning away as if nothing ever happened. "So dude, have you been noticing something kind of… _weird_ lately?" The fish's gaze lands somewhere beyond the store's display glass, taking note of a familiar figure.

Gumball steps over his passed out peer without so much as a second thought, reaching over for a cheap, 50's horror flick. _Oh wow, it's only $2?!_ "Eh… not really?" his ears perk up at a sudden thought, "Oh wait… you mean that one video where Banana Joe is, like, legit _stripping_ and then he—"

Darwin blinks, tilting his head, or rather, body, as it stands, in bemusement. Something like the prelude to a frown tugs his lips, but it doesn't go beyond that. "Dude, _no;_ that's not even close to what I was gonna say." _Sometimes,_ in those milliseconds where Darwin's goldfish brain had the urge to _reflect,_ Gumball sometimes was a let down; too shallow and too concerned with his own little world. Even when the worst disasters that have happened thus far in their lives it's like some magical force reset everything back to it's normal state, and Gumball acted like they never happened. What makes it worse is that it's not even _have_ the luxury of saying he forgot; it was just that Gumball… didn't _care._ That's _scary_ at times; why couldn't he be just a _little_ bit more serious? Just a little more… concerned? Shaking his head to be rid of such annoying, out of character thoughts, Darwin takes a moment to process what his friend just said. "Wait… _what_ did Banana Joe do—"

"Too weird even for _me_ to say. What were you going on about?" Gumball's voice comes out muffled by literally having dove in the discounted DVD bin full of old and obscure movies. "What's been _weird?_ "

"You know; _everything,"_ Darwin makes a wave-like gesture encompassing all the space around him to give effect. "Like how, I don't know, _lately,_ everything's just been kind of _quiet_ and—"

"Uh-huh… and you consider this a bad thing _because…?_ "

"Not that it's _bad_ ," Darwin's eyes flicker on over to the glass again, not wanting to _truly_ divulge what he's actually trying to say out of desire to let Gumball figure it out for himself; it's _his_ problem, after all. Knowing him though, he'll probably lose interest the moment they turn around.. including Darwin himself. But he needs to at least let him _know_ to some extent, at least. "Just, don't you think it's a little… I don't know, unusual?"

"Again, you're not exactly hitting a point here, dude."

Darwin has to rethink his strategy. Exasperated, he takes in a deep breath and tries again, like he usually does with his hyperactive brother. "Look man, all I'm saying is to just… _maybe_ pay attention to your surroundings a bit. Not to sound like a paranoid freak or anything but—"

"Yeah. No you passed that train _ages_ ago..."

" _BUT_ just be a little more thoughtful, yeah? Haven't you noticed that things seem a little too… calm? Just a little bit? Think about it, no attacks, no sudden meta-tragedies, no..." he glares pointedly at the glass with his eyes, trying to capture Gumball's attention with it, " _enemies_?"

It takes Gumball exactly five seconds to process what Darwin is trying to get at. It works only marginally and on a whim, right before he's about to question Darwin's insanity all over again, his gaze lands on the window. " _Woah._ Dude, look! It's Rob!"

" _Oy vey."_

"Bless you," his blue paws are pressed up against the glass, and he stands on his toes to try and get a better look. Squinting his eyes, his lips turn down into a confused frown, "What's he doing _here_ of all places? Like, no offense or anything, glad that he's my mortal enemy and all, but there's a lines that you don't cross, you know? You think maybe he's stalking me?"

"No dude, I _don't_."

"In any case, doesn't it seem unusually weird that there hasn't been any attacks from him? Elmore has just been too quiet lately, don't ya think?" His face smushes against the glass now, analyzing the teen villain's every move and step.

"Wow. Never would have thought of that at all, dude. Not even in a million years." Darwin's sarcasm is all too evident, but he doubts Gumball picks up on any of it.

"I know right? What's he even doing with all that stuff in his arms?"

This captures Darwin's attention, and he quickly rushes to join Gumball's side to take note of Rob. How is it that he hadn't captured that before? Rob looks as bored as can be, and yet also focused on the task at hand. It reminds him strongly of Mrs. Mom; not at all paying mind to anything trivial as it seems. No matter how much he tries to squint, focus, or enlarge his eyeballs to _really_ try and follow him, he can't seem to discern what's in those bags. Huh. Strange. "Ya got me; maybe he's throwing a party or he's tormenting a new nemesis?" He instantly regrets saying these words as soon as they leave his mouth; he sucks in a breath, and swiftly turns to his brother. For a second, his eyes flicker back to Darwin, as if about to say _Wait?! You don't think so, do you?_ and yet, much to his surprise, he only shrugs.

"Eh. Surely it isn't that big of a deal. To be honest, I just don't feel that urgency like I did last time; he already said he's gonna hate me forever. That's more of a confirmation for me _not_ to worry!" Satisfied, he retreats, no care at all for the stains his paws left behind on the glass and quite oblvious to Larry's glare. Darwin, however, isn't too convinced; it happens just as he thought he would. He almost says something, _anything_ at all really to try and make Gumball think on the subject a little more. The truth of the matter is, it's just _very_ suspicious. Not just this in particular, but everything that goes in Elmore _to_ them. It's been too quiet lately and frankly, it has him almost on edge sometimes, if he thinks about it hard enough. Doesn't Gumball care the least bit as to why his arch-nemesis is here shopping about like it's normal? One last look indicates that whatever his mission or goal is, he's in deep concentration; somehow he gets the feeling that he isn't even up to anything evil. It's all so strange. Finally, knowing that trying anything beyond what he's already said and done is going to end up fruitless, the goldfish just shrugs and brushes the whole thing away. Larry is already yelling at them to leave; perhaps, like they've always done, if they just don't concern themselves with anything else beyond themselves, the problems will go away. Like they've always done. _Man; going meta and complicated isn't exactly easy to let go of once you've experienced it the first time._

"Dude, are you _seriously_ doing the 'thinking externally' thing _now_? Your face is creeping me out." Gumball comments with a look of disgust as they turn round the corner to the food court.

"No. It's for narrative suspense. _Shut up."_

"At least find a _better_ way to do it."

"I said _shut up!"_

Little did they both know that the second they had their backs turned, Rob had simultaneously entered the store; neither of the three noticed the other, each head in dealing with their own world and abundance of issues that life had to offer so graciously. Rob, in particular, is glued to his touchscreen phone, pressing buttons and grumbling under his breath.

"Stupid thing never works; my battery is drained _again!_ " He stomps a foot in aggravation, fists clenching around the little device to the point of cracking the screen. _Again._ He had been going over the small shopping list he'd made in haste in the bus. He's gotten all the basics; instant ramen, towels, extra clothes which included several t-shirts and sweat pants which he prayed are at least a close fit for her, toiletries and some snacks. _All for under five bucks too!_ He had wanted to go over the list just one more time to see if he'd missed anything, until his phone just went off and died on him anyway. This makes him growl before letting out a tired sigh, "Bah, whatever," he pockets the stupid thing, shaking his head. "Pretty sure I got most of it anyway..." His gaze holds upwards, and he quickly scans the DVD cases sprawled out neatly, and lands almost immediately to the clearance bin. This hadn't been part of the plan, but he's hoping watching a movie or two as a distraction for both of them would clear the air. He gulps, thoughts immediately trying to deny the inevitable thoughts that worm in his teenager mind. _This isn't a date! Just two people, getting to know each other because one of them was found in a dark alley half dead._ "Eugh," he slaps a hand over his eye, but continues on nonetheless… until his foot hits something very solid and _big_ and he falls to the ground.

" _Ooooh, my **head**..." _that groan didn't come from his own throat, and so despite the discomfort of his landing (stomach flat and limbs tangled with some of the contents of his shopping bags spilling out), Rob's head goes on _full alert mode_ and he looks to the source. He nearly freezes where he sits at the sight; it's… _Tobias._ "Jeeze, always hitting me like I'm some punching bag— _woah, excuse you dude!_ " The sudden exclamation makes Rob start and blink several times. "Look, I don't _swing that way_ so could you _get your legs off of me!?"_ Indeed, Rob's long lanky legs are on top of Tobias's body (which… well, is his whole body and head), situated there like he's a footstool.

Immediately, Rob gets defensive. " _You're_ the one laying there like roadkill! This isn't your freaking house dude."

"Like heck this is _my_ fault! It was Gumball's doing! He freaking threw a DVD case at me man!"

 _Wait, Gumball was here? How long ago?_

 _Wait._

Why does he even care? Eugh. That stupid guy has his instincts on auto; just the mention is enough to elicit a fierce glare and fleeting hate in the span of one second. Rob rolls his eye. "Whatever. Not really my problem, is it?" He makes a move to grab all his bags, and on his way to stand, also grabs the DVD that was next to Tobias. _Huh, only two dollars? Not bad!_ And yet, a sudden thought cuts through his mind, and he risks a flicker of a glance to the rainbow lad, who's still nursing his black eye and head-bump and murmuring something about not being appreciated anywhere. He clears his throat, trying to act nonchalant, "Hey, uh, T-Tobias, man. Can I ask you something?"

"You already _did._ "

Rob tries to give Tobias a pass for that one, fighting the urge to yell by grinding his teeth. "Right. In any case, do you… remember inviting me to that one party a relative of yours had?" A sister? A cousin? She must have been related to Tobias in some way; even a name would do. His stomach drops at the look of confusion and _nothing_ on the guy's face.

"Uh.. party? Nope; no party thrown anywhere in my place. My parents would throw a fit." _Since when did he care what his parents thought?_ "And I don't have any relatives, I'm an only child! As if my folks would ever even have another kid! Why would they, when I'm all they'd ever want?" He struts like a cocky peacock, basking in his own delusions. This isn't helping.

"Really? No memory of uh, a yay-high girl," he signals with a broken pink hand, signaling an estimated height just below the whole of his torso, "Rainbow hair? Green skirt? Pink shoes…?"

"Dude, you are so tripping. Are you on something?"

"Come _on_ man, give me something to work with!" He hadn't meant for his frustration and desperation to seep through, and yet, that's exactly what happens; he pants a little to try and calm himself down. Tobias is already backing away a couple of steps, but Rob decides to give it one last try. "Blue skin? May or may not have been… kinda..." he struggles to remember just what she had been like, based on the small glimpses of her he _somewhat_ remembers. Cursed Void. "… bossy? A real big-mouth, and… and..." _I don't even know what I'm saying…_ He's about to wave it all off, dejection already taking across his features.

But the look on Tobias's face makes him stop moving; like he's trying to pierce together some riddle. Like he's truly _struggling._ "Actually, now that I think about it," Rob can almost _see_ the flicker of familiarity flashing through his eyes; like it's _there_ and yet, the magic of the Void all but casting spells of unknown power. Tobias hits his head with an open palm, "Uhhh… _Rachel…_?" he says the name like it's a completely different language, but right in that instant, his eyes snap back, and the possible remnants of this girl is gone. "I… I don't know dude? Probably some cousin of mine, or something? Probs happened a _while_ ago too," he shrugs, not at all perturbed by whatever had flashed across his mind. But the sheer name alone is more than enough for Rob's own suppressed, or rather _deleted_ memories, to come back. Not all at once, and definitely not barely. But it's something. It had been his sister's party, and her name was Rachel. His gulp is painful, but he doesn't let his sympathy, frustration, anger, pity or scorn bleed through the cracks of his carefully composed expression. He simply nods his head and walks off, DVD clenched in his hand and leaving a slightly bemused Tobias.

 **( &. )**

"Freaking trash bus. I hate this moronic _town_."

Rob curses at himself, mumbling under his breath blaming the _stupid bus that just never arrives when it's supposed to._ Twenty minutes. Twenty darn minutes after fumbling for cheap food and clothes and toiletries that they both kind of needed. The truth is that he dreaded coming back, more so out of nervousness than out of anything else. Holding several bags in each arm, the lanky teenage cyclops kicks his own door down, momentarily forgetting about company. "Stupid bus. Stupid video store. Stupid _Tobias,"_ his cross mood does nothing for his flustered unease. " _Aw, shoot._ She's probably still—" he curses at himself again, wondering when and why he turned into such an idiot; she's probably still asleep, and here he is, making a huge ruckus. His one eye peers to the couch, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight the rainbow frizz and blue skin. Slowly, he settles everything down as quietly as he possibly can and stands there for a few awkward moments, arm resting on the back of his head. "Still not up, eh? You sure are taking your sweet time."

He'd hoped she'd woken up by now; and yet the feelings of unease and anxiety don't drain from his system, they just settle. Should he try to wake her? He gulps; she has a name; it's Rachel. Even if her own little brother didn't even remember her, or even knew she existed once upon a time, it still doesn't take that credibility away. He sighs, deciding right then and there to stop being so darn chicken. All he has to do is shake her awake, just slightly. Head bobbing a few times in confirmation, he mentally prepares himself. "She's not gonna bite; just… just wake her up and hope for the best," finally snapping out of his reverie, he steps forward to where she lays, eye still peering through the darkness of the room; he hadn't let up the blinds before he left, figuring it's better for her to rest as much as she could. His vision had adjusted more to the dark, being in the Void and in the Watterson's home.

But something unsettling creeps over his him and immediately his nerves are on edge. His sixth sense is more powerful than he realizes, and Rob assumes a defensive position, shoulders hunched and fists clenched, before he even knows it. "Who's in here? This isn't _funny!_ " His one eye lands on where she… _Rachel_ is at, only for it to widen when he realizes a very important detail: it's a lump of a bright tie-dye blanket. She's _gone._ _What the_ _ **heck?!**_ "Wait a minute. I don't even _have_ —" The blow to the side of his head comes out of nowhere. Stars and bright colors cloud his vision, the colors of the ratty old sofa and carpet swirl together in chaotic harmony as he tumbles down. Perhaps he hears some birds too; he isn't sure of anything at the moment.

His vision lands him on pink shoelaces and a blurred figure holding something akin to a frying pan. Only one coherent thought is able to manifest in the form of spoken words before he truly gives in to unconsciousness:

"Why _me…?"_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _I'm not good at this posting regularly thing, am I? Eh, like I said; it's all outlined._ _Okay,_ _so a bit of a short chapter, but_ _we finally get to some kind of action_ _and interaction_ _, yes? Oof, figuring this kinda thing out is simultaneously hard and fun._ _I really hope I'm doing justice to the show and Rob so far!_ _As always, reviews_ _& __feedback_ _are always appreciated!_

 **( &. )**

 **the second try (III)**

 **IT ISN'T OFTEN** Rob sleeps; last night being a major and inexplicable exception. The few times he does, it's utterly detestable and a major cost not worth getting rest; however, when he's _forced_ to black out, unrelenting and merciless, it's another story. Surprisingly his mind is not filled with dreams of the Void or nightmares of the fateful day when he found out he was completely eradicated from his default existence, but rather they are filled with happier times, when things were _normal_ and _sane_ and his biggest worry was impressing Terri or finishing history homework. Flashbacks as opposed to possible realities plague him; he is brought back to the specific time when he demanded Gumball and Darwin his own name, but the memory is still… fuzzy, glitchy, _off._

"You don't have my number! You don't remember me at all, do you? And _this?!_ This is just some hollow promise!" Even in his dreams, these two are the bane of his existence; seriously, they couldn't even get the name 'Rob' right?! It's not even _Robert_ or _Robertus_ or anything! Just Rob! Three letters!

Darwin steps in to placate him, but it does very little. "Dude, it's not that! We've just been distracted because… uh..." the little fish looks to his surroundings quickly, in an attempt to get anything to save their butts. "Heh, the funniest thing happened, err…" he points somewhere behind him, "See that hole?"

The mention of such a thing is enough to get him curious to drop his anger for a moment; that was his first mistake. He makes his way over, kneeling dangerously close to the edge; there's nothing in there but darkness, what the heck is the fish on about—? And then that's when he feels a sharp impact digging into his back, and before he knows it _— he's falling._ Except this time, he doesn't just land on all fours on nasty sewer water, stuck for the remainder of the day only to later throw their DVD out of pure spite _again;_ no… he falls and he doesn't stop falling. Rob doesn't even scream, but he's about to; the empty pit of his stomach increasing with every second. _Am I… going to fall into the Void?! Is this it? Is this my ending?!_ He knows this is a dream, is aware to some extent, but it feels too real, too disconcerting to the point where he can't even tell what's fiction or what's reality anymore. He's falling and he isn't _stopping!_ A disembodied voice speaks to him; coming from nowhere, from everywhere. _Who are you now? Who_ ** _were_** _you? What's your name? What is your purpose? Why do you matter?_ He doesn't know the answer to any of these questions. He just falls deeper and deeper _and deeper—_

 _Who are you?_

 _Who **are** you?_

 _ **WHO ARE YOU?!**_

" _Gah—!"_ Rob gasps awake, trying to intake as much air as his lungs can greedily take. His first bodily instinct is to reach for his throat, yet he only finds that he can't move an inch; with sharp restraints _—is this a_ _blanket_ _?!—_ suffocating his wrists and legs, he flinches in pure after-dream kick, in panic and in surprise. His eye dilates back and forth, vision roaming around the room; at least his eye isn't covered, he would have had a full blown panic attack. " _Wha—_ What the..? Who…? _Why?!"_ He's too overwhelmed to make a coherent thought, his eyes trying to find an offender.

"I _said_ ; who _are_ you?"

He _hears_ her, but he's still trying to orient himself. Rob doesn't see the source of the voice at first, eye still trying to re-focus on adjusting to the darkness. Having his eye closed for a lengthy period of time tends to have that kind of effect on his vision. A particular spot on his hexagon-shaped head is vividly _sore,_ the spot glitching more than normal _._ He blinks a couple of times; he's not _drugged,_ just hurt. Taking in a deep breath, he groans at the pulse the sore sport emits to him as if to say _Hey, I'm here!_ "For crying out loud, did you _have_ to hit me? What is _wrong_ with you?!" The words are exclaimed in momentarily white indignation, and his gaze _finally_ lands on her. She's been in front of him the whole time, _literally._ He would hit himself with an open palm if he hadn't been _tied_ down onto the sofa like a freaking hostage!

The first thing Rob takes in is that she's _bright_ ; like an inner glow emitting from her very skin illuminates the space she's standing on, and he doesn't mean that in a dreamy haze either. The girl is literally glowing somewhat. Her sherbet hair is clean, free of grime and as poofy as Tobias's whole… well, _everything._ She doesn't look sleep deprived at all, and her clothes are _clean._ She's sneering at him like he's a cockroach, frying pan held tightly between three fingers with both hands, clenched and prepared if he were to make a single movement. She's _scrutinizing_ _him_! As if this is _her_ domain and _he's_ the intruder! What nonsense is this—

"Are you going to give me a name, or what?" She sounds unsure, and underneath, _scared._ Rob takes extra note to the wobble of her lip, and the twitch in her eyes.

But he is _definitely_ not in the mood to be _nice._ "Are _you?_ " his accusation laced as a question makes her freeze in surprise; she obviously hadn't expect him to not act under her mercy. _Fat chance of that ever happening!_ "I help you out and _this_ is how you say thanks!?"

She just… _scrutinizes_ him further, a sensation, he finds, that grows increasingly uncomfortable for him every second she does so. He realizes, right then, that she's not at all sure who she even is, does she? "I… You..." she breathes in, clenching the frying pan even tighter against her small hands. "You… helped me…?"

She's _asking_ him and that… doesn't sit well with him for various reasons. "What exactly did you _think_ when you woke up and found yourself here, eh?"

"I… I _didn't_." she breathes out, eyes downcast in guilt.

Rob realizes that, he too, is holding a breath. He eventually nods once, heart roaring, emotions stirred, unsure on how to proceed. He decides to just… bite the bullet; no use in beating around the bush, is there? "...Do you… do you know who you are?" Her face gets an immediate _deer in headlights_ look; looking at him like he just saw through her entire, broken world. She almost looks like she wants to cry, eyes welling up with the preface to a sob, but she's carefully composing her visage so that nothing cracks too much. But Rob doesn't need to _see_ it vividly; he can tell, immediately, she is broken, like the time he'd escaped the Void out of pure sheer willingness to survive. Perhaps even more so. "A name? Home? Friends?" Every asked word shoots her down more and more, flinching slightly each time he asks, head more down. He lets her collect herself and her own bearings, he can only sit tight and watch; it will do neither of them any good to lose their last shred of sanity. Finally, he only shakes her head slowly, and he has to hold himself back from outright telling her the answers to those foreign riddles that surely plague her mind like a curse. "Nothing?"

"No," she says simply. "I don't… How do _you_ —"

"I know," he inhales, treading carefully, "… _a lot_ of things. I can help you figure it all out. There's no need to _scared,_ " his voice barely cracks at the word; he would have _loved_ something like this when he'd been discovered hiding: _assurance and guidance_. Not confrontation and accusation. Despite his composure and by his own surprise, he finds _wetness_ —sympathy welling up in his eye, which he blinks it away in haste. "I'm… I'm not trying to hurt you here, I can help you. _I'm not the bad guy."_

Oh, the irony _hurts._

Something flickers in her eyes at that line, eyeing him like she's considering him and his potential offer. She's wary, and frankly, he doesn't blame her at all. "Why?"

He blinks again, a little more slowly, trying to think of the correct words to say and how to phrase it all without seeming too upfront or too aggressive. _Maybe it's a little late for that bit…_ "Because..." _I know what it feels like; I know exactly what you're feeling right now and nobody else in this stupid town will get it; because you're going to be in a world full of pain and hurt and I can try and help you manage it._ He doesn't say any of this, and instead the roles are reversed; it is Rob that is scrutinizing her now. What benefit does he get from this anyway? Why did he rope himself into this mess? And yet, despite the annoyance, that nagging voice is there too; the, eurgh, _good_ one. He doesn't owe her anything, but there's almost an _obligation_ to help her. Perhaps it's because they're from the Void, both forgotten, both underappreciated and thrown away. Perhaps it's because she's _more_ vulnerable than he ever was, more miserable, more deserving of any help he'd ever received as reluctant he is to admit it. And perhaps it's also because he did kind of break a few expensive things at her 14th birthday party all those years ago. _Regardless,_ Rob thinks carefully before speaking, resolve firm and—

A light bulb lights up.

"Because you, _Rachel Wilson,_ and I are actually in great danger," fingers neatly crossed just behind his restraints, the temptation to smirk is all too present, but he forces himself to appear neutral.

After all, he's _still_ a villain, you know.

Her eyes narrow, and for a cold-split second, Rob is worried that she can see right through him. Her irises flicker in uncertainty, fingers slowly clenching and unclenching themselves from the firm grasp. Rob instinctively flinches slightly when she moves the pan behind her, and idly swinging it back and forth like she's unsure how to proceed, like she's _shy_. "Is _that_ … is that really my name…?"

He has to pause himself to take in the weight of her question _._ The fact that she asks this with genuine and heartfelt curiosity, which he realizes then is _hope,_ makes him physically uncomfortable and he adjusts himself against his restraints. He clears his throat, attempting to divert the atmosphere of the conversation into something a bit more casual. "Yeah, you told me it right before you passed out." The words are out against his own accord. _What am I even_ _ **saying**_ _?! Okay, okay calm down._ _Err, don't freak out; use this… Just roll with it._ He hadn't thought this whole thing through. He's a villain; improv should be one of his strongest assets gosh darn it!

"I… I _told_ you my name?" Now the frying pan is completely down, and she's looking to him like he's a source for all her answers. still with that everlasting hope in her eyes.

More at ease with the weapon out of the way, Rob is able to think more clearly. But the stars glimmering in her eyes, in her very expression have him dazed for a moment. "Uh… yeah, yeah," he shakes his head, as if recalling something he'd rather forget, "It was just… the whole thing was _hard,_ you know? What with the..." he pauses for approximately two seconds, _for suspense,_ " _Virus_ outbreak and all that." Rachel gasps, frying pan _clanking_ hard onto the floor so loudly that it gets Rob to nearly jump out of his skin. Her hands are clenched and _jeeze, talk about clutching your pearls._ But he _gets_ it, he really does; he would have been _ecstatic_ if someone had told him anything about… _himself._ And then absolutely scared jizzless out of his mind if they then told him they were going through some kind of global disaster of epic proportions. He tries to let a grimace overtake his expression, trying to banish the memory of Gumball and Darwin interrogating him and _making him into a villain and—_ His onslaught of thoughts are interrupted by her taking a step forward; he leans back only slightly out of instinct. His breath is sucked right out of him when she comes… close. _Very close. What is she—_

Her hand is shaking as it reaches toward him, near his pointed cheek. Rob gulps. She looks like all her prayers have been answered, tears in her eyes and trembling lips, "Do you mean… that we're taking refuge here? You _saved_ me? From zombies? Were we… _friends_?"

Rob is far too distracted to really think; he can't help the stuttering. "I-I-I… y-yes… I mean, _yes_ — It's kind of a long story and… and I'm _sorry_ you had to find out like this, believe me I..." he trails off, eye blinking and face warming up. He gulps. "I… I wouldn't ha-have made… you..." _Why does she smell so nice?!_ Her eyelashes were, true to most of their species, at least the ones he'd seen, a darker shade, but no less multicolored than her hair and her skin on that oncoming looks _really_ soft and— Rob gulps again, trying to find his voice. _Why is she so_ _close_ _?!_ But they stand there like that for a few good moments, Rachel looking like she wants to cry and scream and break down, and Rob… well, looking more and more flustered by the second. But then her words truly begin to process; _Friends._ And yet, his mouth is in no way on the same page as his mind, and they talk without his permission anyway, "Yes, we were… it's… been a while," he near-whispers. It takes everything in him not to jump at the _very_ slight and jolting hand on top of his head. _What is she doing?!_

"Do you really think…" she starts, eyes still welling up, lips still trembling; Rob unknowingly tries to lean forward to truly _listen_ to what she has to say. He doesn't know what's come between them, what this ridiculous, flustered, awkward atmosphere came from, but he isn't susceptible to a girl's full on attention; he is, in fact, still a teenage boy after all. He swallows, his attention on her wide eyes and moving lips _and is that lip gloss?_ "...I'm that _stupid_?"

Say what now.

And like the snap of a finger, the moment _shatters_ right before him; cue the screeching record player and multiple, confused blinks. Where there was pleading and a cute pout, there now lies a glare with narrowed eyes. Where there was an angelic, almost _comforting_ touch, there's now a firm _yank_ of his 'hair'.

Rachel looks _pissed._

"I—I—I… _wait,_ I don't— _OW!"_ Cue another yank. "What is your _deal?!"_

At his whining, she rolls her eyes, only marginally loosening her grip. "My _deal_ is that you think I'm _this_ unfathomably _stupid_ enough for you to lie to! There's no virus outbreak! Everyone was normal and abnormally happy!"

What is she talking about? Had she gone _outside?_ "How did you even—"

"I was _out_ you dumb bozo! How do you _think_ I got new clothes and took a _shower_?!" With each word emphasized, she yanks up up or down; poor Rob's eye is watering now. "You didn't even leave the door properly locked! You make a terrible kidnapper!"

"— _OW! Would you stop pulling?!_ Then why did you even come back?!"

"I don't _know!"_

"My left foot you don't know! At least let me _go!"_

"Why should I?! You kidnapped me! Probably expected something creepy in return, you dumb boy!"

He sputters, indignant, angry, _flustered,_ hopeless. "I—I—I _was not!_ You don't even— _I wasn't!"_

She yanks him higher, well as high as she can anyway, for his little outburst, mistaking his embarrassment for some kind of challenge. "I bet you freaking were! What's your endgame, here? Virus outbreak, really?! That's the best you can come up with?! What were you even doing out anyway? Trying to get some tools of torture to use on me while I was knocked out? What do you want with me?!"

"To let me _go firstofall_ _and_ _two_ _it'saJoyVirusoutbreakwhichiswhyyoudidn'tseeregularzombies!"_ Nearly that whole bit of his sentence is delivered in an embarrassingly high pitched voice, thanks to her fierce yanking; dignity be darned, the pain is too much. Everything right now is too much; both kids are near nose-to-nose, one flustered, red and in pain, and the other equally as flustered, equally as red, but _angry._ Both are panting, letting Rob's words sink in; the next few seconds are an absolute stare off, and it doesn't take any longer than that for them to cool off. Rachel finally, albeit reluctantly, lets him go. She tucks in a messy multicolored strand of hair away, trying to get a semblance of someone who just hadn't exploded. Rob looks equally perturbed, huffing in annoyance, eyes accusing.

"So, Joy Virus, was it?"

Rob huffs out, rolling his eyes. He shuffles his bound arms, gesturing rather aggressively to his plight. "Untie me, and I'll start from the top. _And no hitting me or pulling on anything this time!"_

It was going to be a long afternoon.

 **( &. )**

 _Elsewhere…_

" _SON OF A—"_

"Dude! Are you okay?!" Darwin exclaims to a fallen Gumball, who, out of nowhere was knocked over to the ground by a seemingly invisible force. Both were taking a regular stroll through the park; all had been going fine and well until well… this happened. Darwin has no idea what's come over his brother, but he isn't exactly unused to all this either. "Err… what _happened?_ I didn't see what hit you..."

The blue feline is struggling to get up; whatever hit him did so excruciatingly hard. Gumball wheezes, limbs shaking as he clutches his chest in agony. "I… I… You don't _feel_ that man?!" He looks around in a blind panic, sweat glazing his forehead. He clutches onto Darwin, near trembling. "Don't tell me you don't _feel_ it?!"

People are starting to look; heck, even the _ducks_ are looking at them strangely, ignoring the breadcrumbs on the grass. This is getting a little embarrassing. Darwin blinks, looking around before shrugging. "Uhhh..." Gumball grabs Darwin by the neck, looking at him straight in the eye, "Dude, you're starting to _really_ freak me out..."

"It's a disturbance in the _force_ , man!" He pants, conspiring for all the world to see he whispers harshly, " _Foreshadowing..."_


End file.
